


Arachnophobia

by munchmuffins



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3182723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/munchmuffins/pseuds/munchmuffins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris has an obsession with butterflies. It doesn't help that he thinks of Tao as a white-winged one too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arachnophobia

 

_Fixative_

/ˈfiksədiv/

_noun_

plural noun: fixatives

A substance used in preserving a histological or pathological specimen to maintain the normal internal structure of living beings before their time of death.

 

—A plant microtechnique course lecturer. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brown is a terrible color on pristine white wool.

 

Though not as obscene as the rows of wings that hung for display on his walls, this creature was not welcome in his residence. No longer moving, and yet he continued to hit it down with his tabloid.

 

Melodious.

 

Utterly gorgeous.

 

The ethereal voice of the boy was captivating; his songs were equal to just how angelic his pearly butterfly is. Piano keys thrumming against door as he watched the critter tried to move once more before landing his pages upon it again, each rhythm encouraging him to pummel the creature down.

 

Lights from outside the window had began to dim, while his sweet little peach was still singing his lyrics, uncaring of the impure outer sphere, like a newborn child in his cradle.

 

Oh, how he vowed he would never know.

 

Just like his collection, these wonderful myriad of colors would never know such things that would damage their beauty. Zi Tao is indeed beautiful, innocent to the core, and he would protect that quality of him, have his fluttering eyelids brush against his forehead as he marked the untainted creature in his bedroom. Just he and the singer alone against the evil world, just the two of them, and nothing could separate them for their undying love is the one that would connect them forever, making sweet little Zi Tao devote himself to him and him alone.

 

The perfect beauty. The vanilla orchid that he could own forever and more.

 

The innocent butterfly that he longed to claim.

 

The gorgeous shade of sunlight that seduced his lust; the most exotic part of his collection.

 

Crescendo, or rather, staccato—maybe, he wasn’t sure—began vibrating from the room, bestowing the man bliss as he viciously scooped the foul, beaten insect onto his papers. Unlike the butterflies in this room, the ones that decorated his walls with pride, this one held nothing more than shame and fear; the features that he shall never introduce to his beloved treasure. In mere moments, the door shall be opened once his wheels—

 

 

 

 

“Kris?”

 

 

 

How time flies that he could not hear the allegro—perhaps—anymore.

 

 

 

“Kris, what are you doing?”

 

 

Away with you, hideous beast; back to the cruel world from where you came!

 

 

“Nothing.” He said after throwing his tabloid away onto the patch of grass. “I just saw a spider.”

 

 

 

 

 

Would you look at that?

 

Would you look at the fear painted on that lovely, lovely face?

 

 

“What is wrong? Why did you stop playing?”

 

 

He approached the boy carefully, the wheels on his chair squeaking against the wool beneath him, towards the pretty little thing that was quivering and falling to his knees from the fright that crept onto his spine, to the very cells of his being.

 

“You were hitting it very hard.” Zi Tao whimpered as Kris cupped his face, a worried look visible to his eyes. “I can hear you from my room. I didn’t know—“

 

The hand caressing his head was gentler than any mother could have given him; soft whispers and hushed words in a comforting embrace. “Hush now, love. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you would hear it.” The man nuzzled his forehead with the tip of his nose, calming the musician in his arms. “Would you like me to make you a hot chocolate, sweetheart?”

 

 

Zi Tao nodded his head like the good boy he was, unaware that it pleased the man in the wheelchair that what he could imagine.

 

“Well then, go back to your room and finish the album. You need to have it finished by tomorrow, don’t you?”

 

 

 

For the rest of the evening, it was a mixture of hums and the scent of cocoa that travelled with him as he listened to his beloved’s music all the way until curfew arrived. They had both agreed that Zi Tao would always sleep under ten o’clock, so his beverage would arrive at the same time to lull him to deep slumber.

 

In a short time, there was nothing that could compare to the sleeping beauty that he had guarded from all terrible debris of mankind.

 

He shall be his guardian forevermore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“Outside there's a box car waiting, outside the family stew-ew-ew.”_

 

He was the icon for unattainable beauty. Long lean legs, sparkling almond eyes, the adorable porcelain doll that was just unearthly, strumming his own guitar away as he sings his feel-good songs. That was the image everyone instilled on him, the one category everyone loves to stamp him in.

 

_“Out by the fire breathing, outside we wait 'til face turns blue.”_

It was just a label. An invisible one, but still a label to know him by.

 

_“I know the nervous walking, I know the dirty beard ha-a-angs”_

How it would shock them to know that this was not who he wanted to be. How they would be furious at him if they know that these songs were not originated from his thoughts, much less most of them were crossed out from the paper and pen process.

 

_“Out by the box car waiting, take me away to nowhere plains.”_

He did it anyway.

 

He didn’t know why, but he did.

 

The warmth of the water was comforting, but he was meant to escape it after a time. How he wished he could be under it, watching the polished, flawless tiles of their bathroom, the ripples of the water brushing against his skin, but he could not. Sooner or later, he would have to rise; not to run from the bathtub and smash the radio across the room like he wanted, but how he wished.

 

Zi Tao barely recognized his own voice blaring from the hallway. Even when he slid the curtains, he couldn’t hear himself.

 

_“There is a wait so long. You'll never wait so long.”_

It was as if he had never created his own song before.

 

_“Here comes your man.”_

 

Even in his own music video he was just this image of untainted sweetheart, peachy clean status with an unearthly voice. He was everyone’s pixie dream, so to speak.

 

_“Here comes your man.”_

 

And yet no one actually knows what he was actually singing about.

 

_“Here comes your man.”_

 

How he wanted to cry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The deadline was April 25th 2010, 8.00 AM.

 

Time was not an issue to anyone who had a vehicle ran by fuel and motor engine. Zi Tao, however, was forced to travel miles by foot, some occasions would allow him to take his bicycle, which would mean his lungs and legs were terribly exhausted if he were to accidentally sleep in. Kris enforced that rule, forbidding him from travelling anywhere else but the company by himself.

 

If he were to listen at his manager, he would be sweating like a pig each morning.

 

“You’re late.”

 

The person on the driver’s seat puffed his smoke before flicking the ashes on the asphalt. He flashed his smirk at Zi Tao, who had been waiting for him a half hour ago. The sedan’s door was opened with a single switch, letting the indie singer inside the car without even stepping out to let him. Foggy mornings were not always his best weather, but he managed to drive just fine if they were going to the city.

 

“Hey, I had to go someplace else to get cheaper gas. You won’t believe how much the price is skyrocketing these days.” Chen said before passing the vanilla milkshake to his sweetheart, the cobra tattoos on his arm visible from where the white shirt rolled up. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

 

“Says the guy who’s been living in a rundown apartment and hasn’t made another album for two years.”

 

“We can’t all be sugary-sweet like your songs are, peach.” He gripped his steer with ringed fingers and revved the engine, glancing to his side to see Zi Tao sipping his beverage while clutching at his satchel. “I write songs about the tormented souls; you write about childhood memories and first love. Basically, you’re like Zooey Deschanel and I’m Eminem. We both have different demographics.”

 

“Xiumin and Lu Han just released their latest album last week. Kai made another comeback by starring in another musical. What about you?” Chen was given a skeptic look, one that had shades of envy. “Kris worked me to the bone and I’ve been paying for our dates. If you keep this up, Kris is going to find out and he’ll make us separate for sure.”

 

“Yeah, about that,” Fifty miles of going straight, turning left at a curb, and he nearly scrapped the paint of his right hood from the leaves of the neighbors’ lemon trees, “why don’t you just go get another manager? I mean, Kris is nice and all, but he’s, like, totally controlling you. What kind of guy tells another guy that he can’t have a car? What kind of a guy makes another guy curfew less than ten, even?”

 

Zi Tao giggled, making Chen nearly turn to the left side of the road. “You’re just saying that because he’s limiting my time texting you.”

 

“Well, hell yeah! I could have gone all night sexting you if it wasn’t for that prick!”

 

 

 

Chen was not the boyfriend that parents want their little ones to be around with. Growing up with his three best friends until very recently, they formed a rock band that managed to capture the heart and interest of the music industry much earlier than Zi Tao’s peppy love songs came about, with a symbolic image of punk rockers that screamed menace to mothers around. Despite his reputation and breaking news, the main vocalist of ‘Arachnophobia’ continued to be the heartthrob of teenagers with light face-piercings and indescribable tattoos, eyeing the adorable newbie while he was at it.

 

Well-lit publicity alone could not save him. He needed a new sensation to keep his career going—

 

 

 

“Chen, your phone’s ringing.”

 

 

—and this just might be his biggest break yet.

 

 

 

“Talk to me.”

 

 

 

 

The travel alone could have taken fifteen minutes of silent driving, but by the amount of times Zi Tao had asked the former vocalist to drive him practically everywhere, he really could never call out on his boyfriend’s habit of talking on his phone. If this was the price he had to pay, despite the company rules regarding relationships, Zi Tao was all too willing.

 

“Yes, I did say that.” He heard Chen said. “Yeah, on the tabloid yesterday. For the new season, yes.”

 

 

 

The black haired beauty idolized him from the very beginning.

 

Now that he had Chen’s love and attention, he was not about to let anyone take him away from this.

 

Not even Kris. Not even dear, poor old Kris.

 

But, then—

 

 

 

 

Zi Tao was silent during the rest of the phone conversation until Chen spoke to him again.

 

“Are you familiar with the variety show ‘Battle of the Echoes’?” The singer shook his head, unaware that this is what was making Chen appear amused. “I’m not surprised. That’s what you get for having Kris as your manager.”

 

“He can’t help it. He just wants what’s best for me—”

 

“I swear, Zi Tao, I don’t care if he’s stuck in a wheelchair, he’s controlling you! If I hear one more about Kris not letting you do something, I’m calling my director to replace him. To hell with him not being able to find another job, he’s taking it too far!”

 

“He’s not taking it too far!”

 

“The show’s about duets! He’s not making any sense not letting you watch that.”

 

“He’s just looking out for me!”

 

“Oh, really? What about him not wanting you to have the car the company gave you? What about that time when he didn’t let you go to the company’s anniversary party just because he heard they’re serving a few rounds of champagne? You’re fucking twenty years old and he’s treating you like you’re five!” His boots nearly missed slamming the breaks before making a turn to the office.

 

Zi Tao sighed as he let Chen park his car, watching as his boyfriend dented the front by knocking onto the adjacent maroon Toyota and stopping even though his car was a bit too crooked. “Look, I know he can be too much sometimes, but he can’t help it. How can you say that about Kris, Chen? I expected better from you.” He slammed the door when he went out, but turned back to the rundown Pinto. “I’ll tell the CEO that I’ll do legislations for the albums online from now on, because I can’t do this. Say what you want about Kris, but I’m not going to date somebody who can’t even pity someone like him.”

 

 

 

Having your own lover choose an injured person over anyone was a shock in and on itself.

 

To have Zi Tao; lovely, naïve Zi Tao, chooses such a control freak over him was an utterly unspeakable feeling.

 

Unacceptable.

 

How could he lose to such a freak?

 

 

 

Nevertheless, he knew how to fix this.

 

 

After all, what would media be without the latest info of celebrity life?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kris had a habit of spending hours on end on his phone and then spending even longer time in his underground laboratory. Zi Tao, being his housemate and client, was an unnervingly curious person at first and he nearly broken inside Kris’s sanctuary, only for the manager to scold him and warning him of the numbers of lethal and corrosive substances kept inside.

 

Zi Tao was also endearingly lovely. A single pout crumbled all intention and thus Kris handed him a pair of gloves and surgical mask, mumbling under his breath as he unlocked the door.

 

His little butterfly was just breathtaking standing between his columns of collection.

 

Sometimes he depicted himself as a humble admirer. Someone with a sweet tooth for Zi Tao’s innocence and beauty, but never considered that he was deeply immersed with the boy in the middle of the room. As enchanting as the decorated wings on the whitewash walls were, Kris couldn’t help but imagine how lovely Zi Tao would look with a pair of wings behind him.

 

He was a crafted, gifted man. Nearly every day he would spend an hour or two in his laboratory, one day with many rolls of silk, others with liquid on glass rectangle. His work was honored in his days of glory, reflecting the gorgeous, ethereal look of afterlife, back when he was not madly infatuated with the singer, sewing a pair of white wings that hung on the same place as the others. Each of his piece was art by definition, the intense burning desire to keep things the way they were made it so.

 

The wings were golden, like the petals of rattlepods, and as silky as the boy’s delicate skin—he would know, Zi Tao was peaceful in his sleep. Oh, how he would be astounding!

 

 “Kris, you’ve been in there for almost a day now.” He could hear the younger against the wood, his knuckles knocking exactly three times. “Go outside with me?”

 

He should feel guilty, but he’s not.

 

 _Delias_ was sitting on his workbench, its white wings proven stiff from weeks intoxicated with formaldehyde. He would look in every crevice for a tipped cuticle, threw the mortified creature aside if he could, and then look for another to accessorize his hideously plain house. It was his sanctuary—his residence—and he intended for each corner to be beautiful.

 

The butterfly was left when Zi Tao slowly pushed his wheelchair through the blue backdoor of the kitchen. Their curtains had this scent of summertime from the floral pattern that remind him of meadows, often beaten by the soft waft of pastries he used to make during the sun’s forty-five degrees above head period. Meadows were where the little critters would come and play, the fluttering wings driving his content until they landed on the soft petals of a spring flower, and even then there was a brief moment of touch from one he desired most.

 

Zi Tao, he learned, has a bit of a sweet tooth.

 

It was funny how carefree they were. Chocolate melted in their mouths with each bite of buttered cookie they took and for a moment he could be free of that wretched chair, watching as the sun faded from the horizon, the butterflies flying away to their slumber, and just how Zi Tao could take in such simple pleasure with him.

 

“You always made the best cookies, Kris.” He said, amusingly, as he took another from the batch between them, his legs wiggling on the small stairs they sat on. “How could you make something that tastes so good?”

 

“Not as much as your music, love. I can only make small things. You are meant for something bigger.”

 

He nearly forgotten how lovely his blush was until the sunset shaded the singer next to him.

 

“I make songs. That doesn’t mean they could do much of a favor to anyone else.”

 

Kris leaned back, despite his own legs unmoving from where he was. He took one delicacy, biting it off after he finished saying, “Well, why do you think my cooking is that good?”

 

Zi Tao pondered. Oh, how he would gush at the boy’s habit of biting his lip—Zi Tao was just too adorable! “They just do. They make me feel happy.”

 

“Then make people happy.”

 

“I can’t. It’s not that easy.”

 

Kris took another, promising himself that this was the last one. “That’s why they need people to remind them often. I mean, look at me.” He gestured to his legs, very much unaware of what he had done. “I’m broken, but I do just fine for a man who can only have his own body from waist up. I’m still happy.”

 

No, he wasn’t content because he loved his life.

 

He loved that Zi Tao was beside him, listening to his words like he should.

 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make you bring that up.”

 

“It’s alright.” He fought the urge in his head; the desire to reveal was unnervingly strong, so he kept his legs together, forcing them to bind. “No one else has you by my side. No one else made them happy. I’m grateful for that.”

 

This was the start of the cheerful, happy-go-lucky singer named Huang Zi Tao.  

 

This was when he felt his advice was at its strongest, enabling the singer to be forever pure, away from heathen thoughts and dangers inside the makeshift bubble he crafted for him. He tried his best, he truly did, despite his ‘condition’. He would spend his time over the phone consulting with offers Zi Tao would have to take, checking up on the boy each afternoon, and checking over the set of lyrics Zi Tao could come up with.

 

He knew eventually the effort was going to be waste.

 

Zi Tao was bound to grow up.

 

Zi Tao would no longer be his little butterfly.

 

He could not keep him in the web of protection anymore.

 

There is a way for him to keep Zi Tao like this, but he could not bear to use it on him. The only acceptable action to take then was to keep Zi Tao the way he was now, even though such precaution would somehow backfire on him. He didn’t care.

 

“Kris, you just ate the last cookie!” He turned his head, only to have Zi Tao puff out his cheeks in annoyance and he couldn’t help but laugh at the younger.

 

The outside world was layered with sugarcoated reality, waiting as the sun finally fade, the umbra of their shadows uniting with one self. Zi Tao was soft, a playful being compared to his unearthly terrors as he cuddled up to him while his own arm sneaked behind to hold him by the waist, sniffing the scent of lingering summertime on the little one’s dark locks.

 

Even the rattlepods began to fade in color once night arrived.

 

He needed to keep Zi Tao this way. There was no other choice left.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Butterflies don’t only come in form of insects; colorful, fluttering palettes as they are. They could be seen from the _medulla spinalis_ , with a dash of hematoxylin eosin and the clear lines between the grey areas were formed, allowing the manager to see the lovely form of wings from a mere portion.

 

This time, they come in the form of lily stamen.

 

One of the stages of pollen formation was the migration stage, which its own glass specimen alone could price about a million dollars. Kris, however, did not need spend an amount when he could make one himself. Alcohol 70% was prepared in his gloved hand, watchful eyes meticulously checking all descriptions of the migration stage before dropping the alcohol on the specimen.

 

Another one for his collection.

 

Of all the butterflies that he could see, Kris can finally store the migration stage behind his glass pane, along with the other hidden butterflies he had hunted down for years.

 

 

 

Ah, another new species was born, it seemed.

 

 

 

 

There were hundreds of cocoons in his experimentation room. All of them stored on an artificial branch and given enough light to continue growing until the butterfly was ready to release from its prison. Kris was always more than ready to welcome it, to wave his net, to ensure that the beauty would be a wonderful part of his collection.

 

Grinning wildly, the brunette swiveled his wheelchair to a nearby jar before dumping a few pieces of rubber bands, cotton, and dotted paper in it. He swiftly captured the creature, throwing it inside the glass jar and closing it tightly, watching as the poor fellow see the light flash before it.

 

White wings.

 

A bit of fading yellow and orange around the edges.

 

Quite small, about half the size of his palm.

 

_Delias hyparete._

 

He already has this on his walls.

 

 

 

But such beauty should not go to waste. He shall make a glass specimen out of this one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His debut song was ‘Sunshine’.

 

Despite looking nothing a happy-go-lucky teenager would seem to be, Zi Tao’s charms lies in his innocent charm and glittering eye smile that would make anyone bow down to his knees. He was enticing, in a way, luring anyone to become infatuated in any way possible.

 

Zi Tao did not have the intention to steal Kris’s heart, but he did.

 

‘Sunshine’ continued to become the brunette’s favorite song to date, always playing it whenever he could, to Zi Tao’s embarrassment. He loved the little one’s piano arrangements and just how wonderful his voice sounded. He loved everything about Zi Tao, the shining star, the fluttering kisses of morning light.

 

It was a question of how to keep that was the big question in the long run.

 

How was he supposed to capture Zi Tao’s interest?

 

He liked to think of himself as a flower, one with big, beautiful petals to invite the charming butterfly to come near and stay for his nectar, his devoted love.

 

How was he to have such petals?

 

Such wonder would capture anyone’s attention. He was more than grateful to be assigned as the boy’s manager, despite Zi Tao never having seen him before, though he had thought about the boy explicitly many times. He needed a way to grovel inside Zi Tao’s heart, to tug his core and manipulate his empathy.

 

Children love stories. Tragic ones, especially.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Zi Tao, may I introduce to you: Mr. Kris Wu. Kris, this is Zi Tao.”

 

He was fully aware where the boy’s eyes went.

 

“Don’t be frightened, Zi Tao; Mr. Wu is just recovering, that’s all. I’m sure you two will get along just fine.”

 

Two hundred dollars was not a hefty price to win the boy’s sympathy.

 

“I do hope I did not worry you, Mr. Copperfield. It’s just an accident, that’s all.”

 

Silence must have been uncomfortable for the boy, so it was a wonderful surprise that Zi Tao finally to ask his ‘condition’. “Can you walk again, Mr. Wu?”

 

“Call me Kris.” He smiled, mustering the best heartbroken face he could imagine. “That’s really hard to answer, Zi Tao. There’s no guarantee, but I’ll cope with it.”

 

 

 

In that moment, he knew his simple act had ensnared Zi Tao in his web, his own empathy restraining him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re unusually quiet today. What’s wrong?”

 

There were a number of shows that Kris allowed him to watch as long as Kris was there to watch with him. The manager mentioned something about monitoring the influences that would soon rise from his work, therefore there was a need to keep an eye on the things that Zi Tao allowed himself be exposed to.

 

It was Wednesday.

 

Backless cushions stationed in front of their television like an array of trains, allowing Zi Tao to lie on his side with his head on Kris’s lap beside him, smiling as he did.

 

“What are we watching tonight, sweetheart?”

 

The stroking motion on his head nearly calmed him, but then he remembered something.

 

“Can we watch ‘Battle of the Echoes’?”

 

“Sweetie, why would you want to watch that? It’s a show about two clashing singers trying to duet. Nothing is really great about that, especially not when they’re completely bad at it.” Kris noticed the adorable pout on Zi Tao’s face. With a single stroke on his face, his thumb started tickle the skin of Zi Tao’s lips—some part of him wishes the little singer would hurry up and kiss it. “Why don’t we watch something else? I’ll go get the DVD case, hmm?”

 

“Well, there’s something I—“

 

 

 

_“—so tell us again about how you broke off the Arachnophobia band, Mr. Kim?”_

There were two people. This was the first he saw ‘Battle of the Echoes’, all sparkling stage décor and cheering fans in front of a table meant for two.

_“To tell you the truth, it’s not mainly because of personal interest. I nearly hit it off with them, so when we decided it was time to move on, I was more than ready. Besides, we have different goals regarding our career. I, especially, achieve for something different.”_

 

_“Would you care to explain what that would be, Mr. Kim Jongdae?”_

_“Why, to get into Huang Zi Tao’s pants, of course!”_

 

Though separated by plasma, the surprise regarding his former boyfriend and his manager being face-to-face was thrill-inducing. Kris was solemn, but he watched through the entire interview with his hand on Zi Tao’s trembling head.

 

 _“Mr. Kim, I’m afraid we missed that part.”_ The host nearly spitted out her soda as the crowd cheered. _“You said something about—“_

_“Oh, I know perfectly well what I said. Zi Tao’s not meant to be kept for oneself. He’s meant to be celebrated by one or two who knows how. He’s just so hot, you know? Zi Tao’s really my ideal type: cute face, adorable voice, long legs with full thighs and tight buns, all in the package.”_

_“Right. Well, that’s quite the info you’re feeding the media with, Mr. Kim—“_

_“Call me Chen.”_ He winked before sipping his drink, well aware that the camera was shooting his face while Kris’s eyebrows raised at the gall of this pierced freak. _“In fact, I would appease the shippers by telling them that starting the next season, Huang Zi Tao and I would be the star in this very show.”_

_“Chen—“_ The redhead tried to calm the eccentric singer, but it was too late. He was already rising with his latest scandal, one that would make him a star once more, this time with supporters behind his back.

 

_“Let me tell you right now that Zi Tao is going to be mine by the end of the serie—“_

 

 

 

 

 

 

He could understand perfectly why Kris would act that certain way.

 

The remote that crashed the plasma was more than a warning he should not have ignored.

 

“Do you know him?”

 

 

 

His manager was trying to keep his boiling anger down; Zi Tao could feel him right under. How his words would infuriate him, he imagined. “Yes. W-we dated once.”

 

 

 

“Has he touched you?”

 

“N-no. No, he hasn’t.”

 

 

 

If he weren’t mistaken, Kris’s sigh could have been taken as a sign of relief, but he was quick to regain his fury, albeit a lesser vibe than before. “Zi Tao, what were you thinking? You know how strict the company is about these things.”

 

“I’m sorry, Kris, but it’s just—he’s—well, I haven’t gotten in a relationship and he was my first—“

 

“Does it ever occur to you that he may be a bad influence to you?”

 

“He’s not—“

 

Though gentle and light as the wind, Kris’s touch as he cupped his face in his lap was not what Zi Tao wanted to get, not when he had gripped harder than he had ever done. “What happened to my sweet little butterfly, hmm? Has he gotten in your head, influencing your music, just like I thought he would?”

 

“Kris, stop it! He’s—“

 

“You heard him, didn’t you? All he wanted was a night in bed with you.” The brunette in the wheelchair whispered as he embraced Zi Tao in his arms, the tip of his nose slightly nuzzling the crook of the singer’s neck. “That’s what I’m afraid of. You’re still too gullible, so naïve. He’ll hurt you and I don’t want that to happen. You understand this, don’t you?”

 

 

 

Kris has always been there for him for as long as he can remember.

 

Though often times overbearing and controlling, Kris had done everything he could to protect him. Considering his broken legs, that was quite an amazing feat to the dark haired singer.

 

For someone who had lost everything to devote his life to him; it touched him deeply to know that Kris cared for him so much.

 

“I understand. I’m sorry. I must have worried you.”

 

“You have, but it relieved me so, knowing that you’re alright. That boy is not worthy of you, little one, and besides you’re not supposed to have a boyfriend just yet.” He could feel his cheeks warming up at the man’s words, and how it intensified when Kris swatted his bangs to look at him in the eye, so very intense and caring when he did. “You are much too young. There’s more for you to achieve. You’ll find someone, little one, and when you do, you’ll have my blessing.”

 

Zi Tao nodded, finding Kris’s warm embrace comforting as his eyelids fluttered, indicating the sleep was near.

 

“I’ll call Mr. Copperfield about the show and we’ll discuss about this. In the mean time, why don’t you finish your cocoa?”

 

Once more, he nodded like a good boy, unassuming as he did as he was told. A good little doll, just for him.

 

He had been ensnared in the spider’s web for much too long.

 

“Sweet dreams, little one.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Five hundred thousand sold copies of an entirely new solo album.

 

Two hundred offers of variety shows worldwide.

 

Twelve thousand commercial offers in less than three months.

 

He was skyrocketing and he knew it.

 

…and with Chen’s newfound popularity escalating, Kris’s sanity was at its downfall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A spoonful of sugar and a dash of honey. One teabag is meant only for one cup and only the softest milk could swivel against the porcelain and golden linings. The boy was a hard worker and it was only fitting that Kris reward him with the sweetest chocolate chip cookies he could bake.

 

The question was when his little butterfly would finally come home so he could finally give this to him.

 

Though very reluctant at first, Kris finally decided to let Zi Tao try to star in a variety show, if only for a short season. The manager, of course, rendered a few suggestions regarding the show’s agenda through very complicated connections to make sure his voice was applied by the show director and producer. It would be done, certainly—there would not be any Huang Zi Tao in their show if his demands were not met.

 

Nine to five from Monday to Friday, eleven till three on Saturdays, and four till ten on Sunday evenings—that was all he gave for shooting time, and considering he had seen some variety shows about musician, he considered that more than enough time for a weekly released footage. Of course, he knew only so much about variety shows in the first place.

 

Zi Tao was such a diligent, a hard worker. But those alone would not help him to create a new song with the rock star, so Kris would be there if he needed all the help that they can get.

 

The problem was not the boy; it was his companion, the one he despised.

 

It was Friday of their third release.

 

It was nearly six o’clock.

 

Where on Earth are they?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Let’s try this one. There, see? You look fantastic!” The man with dyed magenta hair and nose ring clapped his hands after squealing at his newfound model—Zi Tao—trying on leather and lace choker. “Doesn’t he look fantastic, Chen?”

 

“Lu Han, as much as I would love to ogle at Zi Tao right now, I don’t believe it is in my job description as a driver to suddenly kill everyone from lack of focus.” Despite his words, he managed to get a glimpse of his past lover from the rearview mirror. “I have to give it to you, though, he looks much better than before.”

 

“Darling, you can’t show up past the third episode without having something that screams ‘Chen’ all over you. ‘Battle of the Echoes’ is all about the influence of one artist over the other, and that means either you get back together with Chen and show people how lovey-dovey you are or you being somewhat similar appearance-wise; fan service purposes. It’s just the one that sells.”

 

“Or Chen could wear something more like mine and lessen the chance of giving Kris a nervous breakdown.”

 

The former bass player scrunched his face at the deadpan suggestion before rolling his eyes. “Now where’s the fun in that? You’re not giving off that ‘corrupted’ feel enough, Zi Tao, that’s the problem. Maybe we could fix that before the final episode.” His hands gripped at the driver’s seat, purposely heightening his voice at the flushed singer who had just knocked the side of his Pinto to a curve. “And if you can get a proper driving lesson before you kill us, that would be great.”

 

It was just a shopping trip, nothing more, nothing less.

 

They were just friends on a variety show, that’s all.

 

There was no need to panic if Kris happens to see them.

 

 

 

Lu Han was right, though.

 

If they were to have something that sells, he and Chen would have to create a song that was matches both their tones and eccentric, something that proved they were musicians and not idols desperate for attention.

 

That night, Chen helped him sneak from Kris’s waiting form in his insect laboratory room, but while Chen was sleeping heavily in the guest room until dawn, Zi Tao busied himself with his synthesizer and pencil with trying to instill Chen’s music in his mind and listening to his own through his headphones, writing his own manuscript on how their duet should go.

 

 

It was quite funny how dedicated the boy was to his work, but no one appreciated him more than for his virgin qualities.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_‘Which one is your magnum opus? They’re all pretty much the same.’_

 

If one critic were to evaluate his work, he or she would say that Zi Tao was downright repetitive. The singer himself would not disagree, since truthfully he never quite have more than the beats and music, but his lyrics were oftentimes changed by his manager, claiming that his words were offensive or just inappropriate for soft listeners.

 

A correct simile to choose would be having your mother know about your themed yearbook session and then changed all your costume plans into something more ‘appropriate’, like fairytales, for example.

 

 To have this opportunity, it was truly rare, and Zi Tao was very thankful for it.

 

By their fifth episode, the producers thought it would be a well-done idea if their activities were done in one take instead of a few given hours—which meant it could only be shot by surveillance cameras with high definition qualities. Some of them were installed in their dressing rooms in the company’s office and some in Zi Tao’s house, which they both never seemed to mind, much to Zi Tao’s chagrin. In fact, Zi Tao was more surprised that Chen wasn’t even in the least bit concerned that their privacy was violated and was more focused in the duet music that they were trying to create.

 

Audio-Technica ATH-EM700 SV.

 

Chen has a surprisingly good taste in headphones, Zi Tao must say.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paraffin would make this elegant, pure white cuticles seem like they were dripped in textile. Though he would love to see some color against the glass and objective lens, he would never want to damage such perfection. Why would he want to see white dripping with blood red anyway?

 

The small piece of wings that he would have obtained was enough to damage the once full-pieced creature lying on his desk as he placed the cut with his razorblade; if this one butterfly would stop trying to flap its wings while it was clearly unconscious!

 

 

 

 

A bit of fixative would help with that.

 

 

 

Microbiology is what he considered to be lovely. The small things that are unnoticeable, too tiny to be corruptible, but still maintained their own shape in the world and Kris loved every moment of it. A bit of drops around the eye, on the body, on the wings here and there— _voila!_

 

“Let’s see what you look like down there.”

 

 

 

He looked up to the _Delias_ on the wall, finding them both to equally, hauntingly enchanting. The painted Jezebel was cut from the lower wings, where the yellow and orange pigments were; how Kris could no longer control his excitement! This one was a gorgeous being, pure white from the top and magnificent on the bottom—why, such adorable critter should only be—

 

 “No…”

 

The causes of poor fixation are insufficient volume of fixation, inaccurate time of fixation, the poor penetrating ability of a fixative, condition of specimen, and/or an incorrect selection of fixatives. Each phylum required different types of fixatives, depending on its internal structure, especially for plants which have cellulose cell walls that were impenetrable by certain liquids.

 

Insects were another story. Butterflies were another tale.

 

Though very small and compact, insects no longer have cell walls; which results in their wings to be mobile. They do have chitin as a main structure of their forms, being arthropods as they are, which makes up for their underdeveloped tissues as members of the Animalia kingdom, however chitin is a form of protection, and thus highly impenetrable.

 

Histologists like Kris himself finds the Carnoy fixative, mainly built from methyl alcohol, chloroform, and acetic acid, to be an impressive solution for its fast penetration and its ability to maintain structures, making these creatures look like they’re, in other words, stopped in time. Choosing fixatives is a try and error method for amateurs, but Kris had done this many times. He knew which solution to use, he knew the amount of chemicals to be used under different conditions by heart.

 

 

“ No, no, no—“

 

Choosing a wrong fixative could result in the coagulation of internal solution, resulting in broken images and an incorrect impression of the critter itself. The butterfly cell that he used would be bigger in size, but also distorted; the linings will be blurred, the color smashing against one another, and the creature’s beauty would be forever tarnished.

 

Under the microscope he could see white turning into neon green, the yellows and oranges clashing against one another, and those black lines—they were like splattered nightmares against the color palette of the wings!

 

He was holding an alcohol 70% fixative in that gloved hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The heart of a song is the message song itself was trying, sometimes succeeding, to get across.

 

Not many musicians managed to do that nowadays, but Chen enforced that quality into their project, forcing Zi Tao to think outside of his romance bubble and himself to try and tone down his frustration to achieve both artists’ adequacy. Zi Tao needed to know more about problems outside his own world and Chen needed to see positivity in said problems, if only they know how.

 

They thought about spirituals, which ended up with both of them agreeing that they only succeeded in feel-good songs.

 

They thought about politics, stopping when Zi Tao clearly knew almost nothing about the matter.

 

Finally, they thought about their fears.

 

“I hate spiders.”

 

The irony was hilarity all by itself. “Do tell. I have a fear of closed-in spaces, but I think yours is more worth talking.”

 

“I hate how they seem to always be waiting, making cobwebs while having more limbs than a human would ever have.”

 

It was almost funny that his own band was named Arachnophobia. Chen was never the one with spider issues, and yet here he was, face to face with the one person he desperately wanted to have and just so happens to be the one suffering from said fear.

 

“I hate how they’re taking their sweet time waiting for a prey to fall before wrapping them up and digesting them.” The singer said the last one with a shudder, curling up to the couch on their shared in the office. “How they crawl up on walls, how they move. They’re scary.”

 

Fear of spiders was one of the most common fears in the world. When they first started out, what popped in their minds was to instill fear, to maintain an image as untouchable, fearless group of male singers. “Does Kris know?”

 

Zi Tao nodded, curling even more if he could. “They have scary faces. They move their fangs like it was nothing bizarre, sometimes even venom come out of it. What’s worse is that they don’t run to get you. You just have to wait still until you can’t escape.”

 

 

 

“Sure wish Kris could have listened more, huh?”

 

“Oh, he did. He protects me from them. He really cares about me.”

 

 

 

 

 

The way Zi Tao described it; Chen just doesn’t think it made sense.

 

It was as if Zi Tao’s inner instinct was calling out to him. Perhaps it was just his imagination but the description somehow matches. He was twenty, sure, but nobody deserved to be in Zi Tao’s position.

 

“C-Can you take me home, Chen?”

 

Though he sensed danger, all he could do was grab his keys.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Mr. Copperfield gave me your sample music. Orchestra cello and drums. Not quite you, but the melody was good.”

 

“No one was supposed to hear that yet.”

 

“I had my connections.”

 

It was midnight.

 

“I barely see you anymore before evening. How have you been?”

 

He certainly thought the trophy butterflies on the wall were somewhat creepier than how they were intended to be used for decorations. It was in the middle of the night, the lights were shut to only one  light from the living room, giving a tone of sepia around him.

 

“We still see each other on Sundays.”

 

“Did you really think that’s enough? I was so worried about you, sweetheart. I barely heard from you.”

 

The man on the wheelchair looked more emaciated than he had last seen him. His limbs were nearly wasted, his skin pale as dead, his eyes bulging out along with his cheekbones—terrifying, to say the least, especially when he could see his arms stretching out in the shadows, looking like absurdly long claws as he stroked the head of the boy sitting in front of him.

 

“You said there will be ten episodes. It’s been your ninth week.” He heard Kris said in the living room, his own form hidden behind the decaying wallpaper. “Have you finished your music?”

 

“Some of it, yes. We’re not sure if we can be enough with the piece.”

 

“Well, make sure it has your touch in it. You have more worth than that boy and your music should be the one they heard, not his. In fact, you’re not even supposed to be in this show in the first place.” Kris had his solemn face as he stroked the little singer’s face, kissing the top of his head as he did. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have agreed to let you be in this. After this, I promise you will not leave my side anymore.”

 

“Kris, it’s okay. Hanging out with Chen was fun. I enjoyed it.”

 

 

 

 

 

“You like him.”

 

“He’s a good friend. He helped make the lyrics and we organized the music together. We get along better than I thought we would be.”

 

 

 

“You do realize that this is the same boy who said that he was trying to get you in bed, right?”

 

“Kris, that’s all over now. We’re just friends!”

 

“That’s what he wants you to think. He’s going to turn you into something you’re not. You won’t be my little Zi Tao anymore.”

 

“Kris, you don’t get to decide that. You don’t know him.”

 

“And you do, Zi Tao? You think you know somebody? I’m all you have!”

 

“I do because he loves me! I do because everything he does is better than what you’re doing to me!”

 

 

 

He was stoned in place, hidden in the shadows of the butterflies around him. With his eyes fixed on the two, Chen dared not to interfere and instead chose muffle his breath as he listened more.

 

People say that everyone should share their thoughts to another to avoid bottled emotions that would eventually erupt as a lactic outburst. A boost of education on abusive treatment is to be expected, but they do have points to make, if ignoring three red flags is in a pattern somewhere. The ‘handicapped’ man has a way of creeping into the singer’s mind and telling him what to do based on sympathy, but that was going to change.

 

“You’re not my Zi Tao right now.”

 

“Maybe I’m not your Zi Tao anymore.” The singer seethed, turning his back on his manager. “I’ve decided that I love him and you can’t tell me what to do anymore!”

 

“Zi Tao, get back here right now!”

 

“No! I’ve had enough of you! Leave me alone!”

 

“He’s going to destroy you! He’s going to leave you when you have nothing left!” He hollered when Zi Tao had made his way to his room. “Zi Tao, open the door!”

 

“Kris,” Zi Tao held his tears, locking the path to his room. “Kris, if you care about me at all, please just leave me alone! For once, leave me alone!”

 

“I’m doing this to protect you! He will ruin you; you’ll see!”

 

 

For the rest of the night, Zi Tao cried to his pillows, wishing that the sunrise would bring another life for him. Chen, who was present through the whole argument, would have approached Zi Tao’s room if it weren’t for the realization that this was a matter of two.

 

He was the one who started this.

 

Chen had no choice but to walk away, back to his empty room as he listened how Zi Tao wept for a turn of events. They cared for each other—Zi Tao and manager—and there was no better way of saying that he ripped them apart. He made a catastrophe; he needed to fix it all before he can walk away, despite his infatuation to the fellow musician.

 

It was for Zi Tao’s sake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A kiss to the winner was all one needed to know that they have won in some way or form.

 

“Zi Tao? What is it? What’s going on?”

 

A kiss was not what he needed for this moment, but it was what he wanted.

 

His lips, his first kiss, was intoxicating, desirable, at least that was when Chen thought.

 

It was what Zi Tao wanted, and he was nothing but a fool who had given his whole.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They sound unbelievable together. Chen was astounded, nearly stuttering at his parts at just how heartbreaking Zi Tao sounded, it was authentic—the array of words in front of him were his and Zi Tao’s genuine work put together, something that both has never done before.

 

‘Secrets’ was an authentic masterpiece.

 

It spoke regarding their fear, their passion; their will to give everything up for their music.

 

Zi Tao’s willingness to live for his haunting melody.

 

This was his co-singer’s true heartfelt confession. How it was amazing to have witness, but just how heartbreaking it was to finally see Zi Tao’s true colors. This delicate, innocent persona that Kris enforced on him was nothing compared to the fury that the dark-haired cutie was shouting in the recording studio in this very moment. Chen had been loving a shadow for a very long time; to see Zi Tao to be someone so authentic rendered him regretful that he had loved more—and that Zi Tao would never return the feeling.

 

It was his symphony that he lived for, not him.

 

Not Kris, not Chen, no one else but his own voice.

 

Somehow, it was the greatest rejection of all.

 

“Your turn,” the almond-eyed beauty he had been eyeing mouthed, his breath slightly hitting the microphone.

 

How Chen wanted to land on his knees and just weep, but he had to sing. Effortlessly, passionately, he hit all the notes with the same heartfelt sorrow; his voice was the character of the song, Zi Tao’s was the heart. Somehow it all matched in harmony and as the solo cello orchestra gave them both time to breathe, he endlessly hummed his own fury.

 

Zi Tao was never going to love him.

 

It was never a battle, never a war, but despite everything, he lost all that he cared about.

 

 

 

The bridge came back up and Zi Tao left him stranded. He remembered when they created this song together that Zi Tao was the one who wrote down this particular part. It was his poetry, his background story, the excuse that he had to drag as he built another block of melody to create something solid all on his own. No more sappy love songs, no more cutesy first kisses, this is Zi Tao and he is going give all his secrets.

 

Let him have this.

 

Let him become what he dreams to be.

 

Would it not be the best to be the one to witness such a beautiful performance?

 

 

And so Chen did, holding onto his studio headphones as he sang the last lyrics of their song.

 

 

‘ON AIR’ had never appeared more satisfying in flashing crimson, and yet when the lights were out, they were more fulfilled than how they could ever be.

 

“That was brilliant,” was all their producer could transmit through the soundproof area, to the two gleeful artists. “We’ll be back in an hour to record the rest. In the meantime, you can go on a break, okay?”

 

As the man turned one-eighty from their sight, Zi Tao’s giddy expression was the most adorable thing he could ever watch, even though his hug was a bit choking. “We did it! We did it! We did it! Oh, I can’t believe we finally did it! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

 

“Hey, hey, it’s just a duet, Zi Tao, really.” Chen gave him his grin, the thunder tattoo on his arm rippling as he patted the boy on the back. “You’ve done this before, recording your song and all, I mean. Nothing to thank me about.”

 

“Not my own songs! It feels like my own first recording! Oh, Chen, how can I ever thank you?”

 

 

 

He was no longer Chen who was taking every advantage he could to earn Zi Tao.

 

“How about we celebrate? Tomorrow night at seven? I’ll invite my friends too. Arachnophobia, my own best buddies, how about that?”

 

Zi Tao was precious. That was not a word often used for the singer, but he really was. He deserved to be celebrated for his drive and passion, for being a genuine musician at heart.

 

“Okay.”

 

That precious smile was enough to warm his insides, urging him to peck the top of Zi Tao’s head gently.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Uh, excuse me?” The producer came back with a sheet of paper, the words on it slightly smudged even when he tried to show it to them by knocking on the glass wall. “Zi Tao, are you expecting your manager?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was a time when meddling had gone too far. Scheduling and maintaining was one thing, sabotaging was another right off the bat. Kris was a man with non-functional legs, as far as they knew, but even this was getting out of hand for someone like him. The lounge, provided by the producer of the show, was high up on the third floor and was the only public room available under surveillance, so the three of them were forced to take the employees only elevator instead of the intricate ladder that most people would have used.

 

Chen was the third-wheel, providing moderation for the ticking bomb that would soon commence. The rock star sat on his leather couch while Zi Tao was on his left, glaring at his own manager in front of him who was speculating his own penned words, his nouvelle passion with sharp, criticizing eyes.

 

Kris had brought another form of lyrics.

 

One that sounded oddly like one of Zi Tao’s diabetes sounding music, he was afraid to admit.

 

“This is not like you.”

 

He could almost feel the burst of flames, the fury held tight within him when Zi Tao closed his eyes shut afterwards.

 

“You’re not my little Zi Tao anymore. What happened?”

 

His words had no value of attention to the boy he fancied. Zi Tao set his eyes downcast, refusing to meet Kris’s bone-thin form. Not because of how he looked, how it reflected just how he dedicated his life to him, but because he had stepped over the line.

 

“Look, Kris, Zi Tao’s just exhausted. You’ve got yourself to blame too, he was just—“

 

“This does not concern you! Now leave us alone!”

 

“I’m not going anywhere!” So he barked, slightly raised from where he was seated. “Zi Tao doesn’t need someone like you to tell him what to do, so you can go fuck yourself and haul your ass out of here.”

 

 

There was something irking him the wrong way about this man. Kris was an emotional trainwreck, he knew that from the start, but just why was there an itch behind his mind that this man was far stranger than the man he encountered. Those sleepless eyes, the ghastly long fingers from the sides of his body that reminded him of metallic arms, why was he seeing this poor man as horrific as a spiderlike monster?

 

“So that’s how it is.” Chen heard him chuckle slightly, the edge of his mouth slightly cracking from his line of vision. “Is that the kind of friends you allow yourself to be around with, Zi Tao? Is this the sort of person that you want to be?”

 

“Kris, that’s not it. You’ve gone too far! I never asked—“

 

“You never had to ask for anything! I know what’s best for you!” The first cut was the deepest; the first rip was tormenting, witnessing those arms turning Zi Tao’s soulful serenade in half. “Everything I’ve done, everything was to protect you!”

 

“I don’t need you to protect me! I’m not a kid anymore!”

 

Two becomes four. “I’ve done my best to keep you safe! All I’ve wanted was to make you happy, and this is what I get? An ungrateful child who has been keeping secrets from me!” Four becomes eight, tugging, wrenching at the singer who sank down to his knees, helpless as his own manager murdered his voice. “Am I really so horrible, Zi Tao?  How could you? How could you choose to let out everything to this man whom you barely knew instead of the person who does nothing but care for you? Maybe you should replace me with someone else then! See if they care about you until they work your talent until there’s nothing left!”

 

He was shaking his head as his tears escaped him. Kris has taken his words. What else was there to say?

 

“Kris, that’s enough.” He tried, though. He really did try. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started this.”

 

“Damn right you shouldn’t ha—“

 

“But do you really think that you can keep him forever?” Chen sank on the floor with his partner, wrapping his arms around him and gently soothing his back to calm his crying friend. “I admit that this whole thing was my fault. I’m the one who brought Zi Tao into this. I’m the one who separated you two.” He kept his head low, a silent submission to humility. “I’ll do anything you ask. Zi Tao’s not one to blame and so I’m the one responsible.”

 

 

 

A spider is silent.

 

A spider is calculating, cold, eager.

 

“Fine.”  

 

A spider… A spider always gets his prey by luring them.

 

“Delete the previous recording of the song and change the lyrics with the one I’ve brought. That should save both of your publicity, especially Zi Tao’s—“

 

“I’m not going to do it!”

 

With his body trembling and his voice as hoarse as the stream, he kept shaking head.

 

“I’m not going to sing ‘Sunshine’ anymore.”

 

He kept going. Even when Kris shifted his eyes and gripped at his wheels, he continued. “This is our song, not yours. I want to sing this song.”

 

“If you sing this, people are going to think that you are a fraud.”

 

“I don’t care. I like this song. For once let me sing it.”

 

 

 

Forever was only a streaming constancy in the middle of an edging, reversing time. It was too good to be true and yet people like him could only grapple at the nearest line of stars. Zi Tao was his forever, his constellation, his little butterfly of joy, flying away like he should have thought would happen.

 

He was caging his little butterfly in a glass case and he barely even knew.

 

 The innocence that he was trying so hard to keep was fading before him; marches on like how time does, his own aging morality was wiping the pure light off of the angelic singer.

 

For a moment, he had forgotten it was all a façade.

 

 

 

 

 

“Kris, wait! Where are you going?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was his lie that had been keeping Zi Tao with him.

 

The man who was trapped in wheels instead of the man who—well—

 

 

Beads of sweat gathered on the crease of his brow as he looked down.

 

Thirty three steps were nothing.

 

 

_“—KRIS!”_

 

 

If it was worth hearing Zi Tao apologizing over and over to him, he would certainly fall down those stairs again if he could.

 

Now that he was lying down from his fall, what was left for him?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Diagnose would overcome any of the excuses he has made thus far. Diagnose was the result of them tapping his knee and pushing his heel. He had no choice but to obey; making them think he was truly ill would heighten the consequence of him not seeing Zi Tao immediately that night. Despite all his protests, he was locked inside this room of mocking green, each wall decorated with pictures of ladybugs and sunflowers, none of which were butterflies.

 

In all his life, he never thought or even wanting to outsmart a group of medical people.

 

That night, he lost his job.

 

Fraud, they said, the very word he sentenced Zi Tao with.

 

His form tossed and turned in the middle of the darkened midnight, his own cries muffled by his hospital pillows. His legs moving like they were never before like he was desperate for a walk, the thoughts rotting away in his head, all witnessed by an itsy-bitsy spider sitting on her web.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seven days was more than enough time for rattlepods to wilt in his backyard, not matter the amount of rainfall from the same week. Yellow against the setting sun was a hazard against the brooding ochre; the blonde sat still on his rutting chair, the smell of fresh-baked cookies wafting in the air, each batch already waiting for its usually enthusiastic admirer.

 

“Zi Tao, dinner’s ready!”

 

No answer.

 

He should have expected that.

 

What he really did not expect, though, was Zi Tao staring at himself through the mirror, dressed in all leather and lace that he had never seen before. Certainly, a month earlier, he would have chastised the boy for supporting such ridiculous clothing, but Kris merely dragging his wheelchair forward to inspect him more. “You sure look pretty good tonight, sweetheart.”

 

His little nightingale casted him a look, one that lasted a few seconds before coming back to straighten his blazer and combing the loose strands of his hair. “I’m going out.”

 

“May I know who, if you don’t mind my asking?” Kris grabbed the comb for the dresser, but when he got closer, the singer flinched, backing away as if Kris was the horrible, horrible spider that he feared. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Though directed away from him, the former manager could still see the widening silkworm under his eyes, that line at the corner and the red eyes had not quite vanished yet. “Do you want me to help you with your makeup? It’ll be just a moment, I promise.”

 

“No. Don’t touch me.”

 

“Zi Tao, you can’t just go out looking like—“

 

“I said no!”

 

His were just a quieter, softer version of accusation—‘you lied to me’. He was still the same singer who used to bite his lips, the one he was whole-heartedly infatuated with. “Alright. Do you want me to help you with anything?”

 

It was almost as if Zi Tao was considering it, but then he casted his eyes down again, not wanting to witness Kris exiting his room soon. “Leave me alone.”

 

“Zi Tao, don’t do this, I want to help—“

 

“For fuck’s sake, leave me alone!” The tone of his voice was awry, descending as Zi Tao soon began to rush his breath. “If you care about me at all, leave me alone!”

 

Kris, however, was still. His breathing came from the back of his head, balancing his effort to be the more mature of the two. “Where is he taking you?”

 

“I’m not telling you. I’ll be back tonight, but for now, I just need to get away from you.” He snatched his comb from the man’s hand before throwing it near the bedside table, then making his way to the front door, not caring for one moment that he nearly scraped the elder’s shoulder with the metallic zippers. His own _Delias_ dangling from the key when he inserted it, the bulbous glass protecting it shone against the ceiling light. “Don’t try to follow me.”

 

But Kris did, at least until he stopped at the edge of the velvet crimson carpet beneath him. “I won’t. I trust you.”

 

“No, you don’t.”

 

“I’ll be here when you get home.” Trembling, that’s what he was. “Have fun.”

 

“Why should I go back? You lied to me.”

 

“Because I care about you.” An inch forward, if he wanted, but he gripped his rusting wheels for moving.

 

The _Delias_ turned, clacking just after the rotating motion, and with it opened a new world full of chilling breeze and dim streetlamps. Drops from the evening rain were leftovers from the crying sky up above, and yet he could feel no falling torrents of water on his palms. Each puddle was a reflection to him, the singer who stood alone by the doorway, the looming shadow of a person waiting behind him, foreshadowing his past, present, and forsaken future.

 

For the first time that night, he truly looked at the man in the eye. “Stand for me.”

 

The forsaken future.

 

There was someone waiting behind him, the one who looked out for him; a man trapped. He was asking him to do the impossible—that was what holding them together for so long, though Kris marred him, he could never surrender this.

 

“If you really care about me, then get up and stand for me.”

 

He couldn’t risk losing him forever.

 

Kris kept holding on to his lies.

 

“I can’t do that.”

 

 

So he nearly did lose him into the night, seeing his butterfly flutter his wings with tears brimming in his eyes in fury. _Delias_ glimmered behind him before it was pulled away from the wooden door, its white wings still so stunning, but this one was free, unlike the ones trapped behind glass and bronze on his wallpaper walls. Each of the _Vanessa_ , _Danaus_ , and _Inachis_ staring down at him in different spectrum, like one crucified man would. The narrow walls that were his heaven of glory encased his thoughts with their own damage that he inflicted on them.

 

Beautiful as they are, Kris was the one who injured them.

 

Innocent as they be forever with wounds to bear behind.

 

Zi Tao was as beautiful as he was innocent; too innocent to understand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“—Let me out! You must let me out! You can’t keep me in here!”_

 

The white butterfly made another locking sound when the man turned its edge against the door of the singer’s room.

 

_“Kris, let me out, please! You can’t do this to me!”_

Zi Tao was the centerpiece of his collection. The most intricate one of all.

 

_“Please, don’t do this! Please! Kris!”_

 

He’ll show him.

 

His little butterfly would be tainted never more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was a slight difference between plant and animal micro technique course in his university. The additional course was interesting for him, seeing those layers create such an abstract touch to such grand living beings. Though plants were never much his specialty, he found butterflies to be just as lively, each with its own grand design, their own myriad of colors flying against the wind.

 

Such enchanting creatures. Such immeasurable beauty.

 

Zi Tao was beautiful.

 

Zi Tao was what he would call akin to a newborn butterfly, straight from its cocoon, in desperate need of protection.

 

He was a butterfly. He did not know it yet, which was why he had this planned out so immaculately for him. This glass, to shield him from the dangers of the outside world. This silk, to remind him of just how endearingly ravishing he was. _This_ , to hinder him from approaching the unknown, the environmental factors that would damage his pure being. Yes, lovely little Zi Tao was meant to be admired, the adorable doll, the delicate wings of an angel.

 

Oh, how he desired him!

 

The singer would make an excellent focus to his wonderful collection.

 

You see, he considered art to not consist of charcoal drawings and oil paintings upon canvas. His collection was his own gallery, he considered, masterpieces beyond galore of wings, each a jewel, a work of art with its own rare design. Nevertheless, there was only one Zi Tao.

 

Chen was not exactly a terrible-looking fellow.

 

Each of the artists in the company was a doll in their own rights and the male in front of him was not an exception. He had his preference set on Zi Tao, but Chen would make an interesting sight, provided he was less than breathing.

 

Doors closed, lights dim, and their witnesses were wings.

 

His face was not as alluring as Zi Tao’s, not under the sudden knock of a hot teapot kettle and shots of his favorite fixative. Chen would look lovely in his collection, however, and once he was finished in making him as terrific as he wanted, Zi Tao would be his favorite doll. He would be surrounded by beautiful things, pretty ones like him.

 

Fingers bent in ways impossible, each thumbs missing from the body, the silhouette on the wall creating an illusion of a giant spider about to reach out to the glass pane. Ah, the forgotten room behind his laboratory—he had always wanted to lure Zi Tao in here, but alas, now was the perfect time, more so than ever. The setting was meticulously put, the silver strings had been tugged across the room, with Chen in one of the corner, his body clad in sheets of black, no longer moving.

 

Now for the centerpiece.

 

Zi Tao was… uncooperative when he first handed the glittering butterfly costume to him.

 

He loved hearing Zi Tao’s voice. He loved seeing Zi Tao’s face contort into different ranges of emotions. Fear, however, was not something he loved to see in the boy, the gorgeous singer who backed away at the sight of him, holding a syringe in his left hand and silky wings in the other.

 

“I’m only doing this to protect you.”

 

It was silent as dead for quite some time after a certain ruckus, but nevertheless his collection was finally complete.

 

Zi Tao was as beautiful as ever.

 

He could never part with him, not this lovely one. Not the one with porcelain white wings behind, encased inside glass with the being of his nightmares about to lash out from the corner. Zi Tao was adjusted in the narrow space, his numb body bent in ways unimaginable, creating a sort of image of a butterfly trapped within, hiding from the dark danger outside.

 

“I’m only doing this to protect you.” Kris whispered after he finished rearranging Zi Tao’s position at the center of his art. “You understand that, don’t you?”

 

Zi Tao was beautiful.

 

Clad in pristine white, he was beautiful, an ethereal butterfly amongst the mediocrity.

 

His very own masterpiece, hidden behind his workplace, masked by the scent of cocoons and alcohol. Each of the crucified darlings were their witness, flying still in a plate of cold, gray walls, leaving one of their own kind behind, near the grasp of a deadly spider. Kris loved to think that he had saved the pretty one, encasing him in a cage of glass, away from the heathen ways of the world.

 

With this, Zi Tao would no longer have to fear.

 

Kris would also no longer have to grow his worrisome head.

 

His beautiful butterfly would be forever innocent in his cage.

 

The syringe was cast aside in one corner of the room, the liquid dripping against the concrete from the shards. Mind numbing, just like the suspiria that held the screams, the fear that was the amygdala’s arousal—it worked just like fear to humans. Each of them invaded the cells, striking the limbs of the being until the veins were wintertime in a thunderous blizzard.

 

Zi Tao’s eyes were wide shut, his own mind clamping his motions shut, as if the very witness of him descending. He was forced to see forward, his soul begging for a _stop, stop, stop_ —and yet there he was. The masochistic nerves were like masks of silver, watching him in glee as he internally screamed for a cease, his eyes nearly bulging as his blood froze in deep slumber, circulating in spikes against the dermis of his pained self.

 

He wished it had not stopped. For when it stopped, his eyes were the only ones left open.

 

Was he still there?

 

Was he conscious?

 

A collector knew not of these things.

 

Kris landed a soft kiss upon the softly-hardening skin of Zi Tao’s forehead, and then his lips as well. His prey was waiting for him and his desire was unfolding, his lust for the boy intensifying as the boy in front of him was as enchanting as he could be, waiting for the stroke upon his inner thigh. He was not in control of what was about to happen, better yet he was not in control of his own being.

 

The silhouette of the spider moved closer to the glass panes with each movements of Kris’s fingers, a kiss waiting at his own lips while Chen was still, trapped in his own strings of web as the real spider came forth to attack at the innocent one, to claim, to feast.

 

His hands, the limbs of a spider-like being on the sides of Zi Tao’s still face.

 

His fingers, each jabbing at the honey-kissed boy silently crying soul when his attire was slightly ripped, his own parts showing for his captor.

 

His eyes shone in glimmering excitement.

 

Zi Tao was in front of him, each sides of him reflected, the jittering lamp above them illuminating his despicable desire. The butterfly was his own to admire, the beauty incomparable to all as he feasted on his exposed thighs, the wings of white pressed against the translucent plane as he devoured him whole, satisfied with his captive.

 

 

 

The butterfly was entangled in the spider’s web.

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [when i'm fucked up (that's the real me)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11344896) by [elliott (goodwillfuneralsuits)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodwillfuneralsuits/pseuds/elliott)




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